


Blue Vs. Blue

by NothingSoDivine



Series: NSD Writes RvB [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Casual Sex, Church being Church, I wasn't sure where to start with tagging this so there we go, I'm Bad At Titles, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Sex, Tucker Being An Asshole, WUZZLES!, and also having a body, i am trash, is that good use of that tag?, like actually really terrible, not sure, of course it's porn, that so needs to be a thing, thought that would be a good place to start, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 07:28:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5859751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NothingSoDivine/pseuds/NothingSoDivine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternatively titled <em>In Which Tucker Is An Asshole So Church Punches Him And Shit Basically Just Goes Downhill From There</em>. My first contribution to the Red Vs. Blue corner of the Archive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue Vs. Blue

“Well.”

“Well.”

Church sighed, leaning back against the wall. “Fuck.”

Tucker cleared his throat but said nothing.

“So, looks like I’m on top now,” Church pointed out eventually.

Tucker’s response was a quiet but still far too audible “Bow chicka bow wow.”

Church pounded his fist against the wall, glaring at Tucker. “Goddammit, Tucker,” he snapped, “was that really necessary?”

Tucker ignored him, sitting down against the far wall and propping his arms on his knees. “So, what do we do now?” he asked.

“I called command,” Church replied. “They’ll send out a rookie as soon as possible. In the meantime we’re supposed to just... ‘chill’.”

“Chill,” Tucker echoed.

“Chill,” Church confirmed.

“It’s too hot to chill,” Tucker whined. Church snorted.

The silence that fell was way too loud. Outside, cicadas buzzed.

“I wonder if I can have Flowers’s armor,” Tucker said eventually. Church gritted his teeth and said nothing.

“I mean,” Tucker continued, and Church closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “chicks are hardly gonna remember you or recognize you if you’re just in plain old blue, right? There’s nothing special about this stupid blue, and how’re chicks gonna be able to say, ‘Oh, yeah, he’s the one to go for’ if you’re in the same armor as -”

“Tucker,” Church interrupted, hands clenching into fists. “Shut the fuck up or I swear I will rip off your standard-issue-blue helmet and shove something down your throat until you fucking choke on it.”

Tucker fell, blessedly, silent. Slowly, Church uncurled his fists.

“Bow chicka bow wow,” Tucker muttered.

In about three steps, Church was in front of Tucker, hooking two fingers under the edge of his helmet and hauling him to his feet before tugging Tucker’s helmet off, tossing it aside, and clocking him in the jaw.

Tucker yelped, falling back against the wall and shaking his hair out of his eyes. “The fuck, dude?” he asked.

“You’re pissing me off,” Church informed him, before punching him again.

“Ow!” Tucker protested, knocking Church’s arm away before he could land yet another hit. “Hey, man, if you wanted a fight, all you had to do was ask.”

Church tugged his own helmet off, taking a couple steps back and throwing it off to the side of the room. He did want a fight, he realized. He needed to do something with all the anger and energy that was completely wasted on fighting this entirely worthless battle. Honestly, what better way to use it than beating the shit out of his incredibly obnoxious teammate? He cracked his knuckles. Tucker paced forward. Then, suddenly, Tucker’s fist came flying, hitting Church square on the cheekbone.

Church stumbled back, grinning even as he winced. Raising a gloved hand to his cheek, he touched the blossoming red mark with a sort of amusement.

“You’re sure you’re down for this, yeah?” Tucker asked, worry creeping into his voice. “I don’t want you to get pissed at me for just doing what you said you wanted me -”

Church’s fist cut him off, hitting Tucker’s nose dead-on. Tucker yelled, hand flying up to check if it was broken.

“Fucking _ow_!” Tucker exclaimed as blood began to drip from his not-quite-broken nose. “You fucking jerk, you don’t do that!”

“Don’t do what?” Church asked dryly. “Hit annoying pri – rookies?”

“You do _not_ damage my nose,” Tucker replied as though it should have been obvious. “Seriously, dude, that is just below the belt.”

“I’ll fucking _show_ you below the goddamn _belt_ ” was out of Church’s mouth before he could think to stop it. He was already moving forward, fist cocked to knock Tucker’s inevitable retort off his lips.

“Bow chicka bow wow,” Tucker laughed, ducking Church’s swing.

“Shut the fuck up,” Church raged, swinging again, fury making him clumsy. Tucker dodged again easily, still laughing.

“Okay, but seriously dude, I fucking called it,” Tucker commented, dancing backward.

Church faltered. “Called what?”

“That,” Tucker explained, waving a vague hand at Church. “Fucking called it, man.”

“What the actual fuck are you on about?” Church asked, swinging at Tucker again.

Tucker rolled his eyes again. “This,” he snapped, before wrapping one hand around the back of Church’s neck and yanking him into a kiss.

Church went completely still, eyes wide as Tucker held him there. His hand on the back of Church’s neck didn’t soften in the slightest; it would be unfair to say that he lingered with his lips on Church’s, when in fact it was more like time screeched to a halt while Church’s mind ground its gears trying to process what was happening.

Eventually, Tucker pulled away. Leaving his hand on Church’s neck, he cocked an eyebrow, trying to smother his growing grin as he waited for Church to react.

Slowly, Church found Tucker’s face, bedecked with enough smug to sink a ship. He narrowed his eyes, brain stuttering back into gear to inform him that yes, punching Tucker again was the best course of action.

Tucker reeled back from the blow, cackling, as Church cocked his fist back for another strike. Ignoring the way his lips wouldn’t stop tingling, he swung at Tucker again, who ducked easily despite being literally doubled over with laughter. Church swung again, and again, more furious every time Tucker dodged him effortlessly.

Finally, Church stomped down hard on Tucker’s knee, sending him crumpling to the ground. Church allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. Then Tucker looked up.

“You know,” he smirked, “if you wanted me on my knees, all you had to do was ask.”

Church froze. “What.”

Tucker gave him a devastatingly, horrifyingly, wickedly hot look from under his eyebrows. “Oh, come on, don’t play innocent. You know what I mean.” As if to emphasize his point, his hands flew to Church’s hips, unbuckling his codpiece with too-skillful fingers. Meeting Church’s eyes, Tucker leaned in –

“No, no, fuck no, what the fuck,” Church babbled, stumbling backwards away from Tucker (and his mouth, fuck, no, not okay, no, down boy, goddammit stop that), but Tucker grabbed at his calves and then he was falling and Tucker was climbing on top of him and suddenly absolutely nothing was okay.

“What’s wrong, boss?” Tucker teased, poking one finger at an unarmored spot on Church’s arm. Church bristled.

“Losing your nerve?” Tucker continued, propping his hands on either side of Church’s head. “Now that you’re on the bottom, you’re chickening out? Bow chicka bow wow,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

“You know something, Tucker,” Church stated matter-of-factly, “You’re a fucking asshole.”

Tucker grinned unpleasantly. “Yeah, I know.”

Church lunged upward, lips colliding with Tucker’s hard enough to split Church’s lip open on his teeth and send Tucker reeling, and Church took the opportunity to roll them over so Tucker was the one being pressed into the floor.

“No fucking way,” he started, relishing the flicker of worry in Tucker’s eyes – it was so different without the helmets, when he could actually read Tucker’s face – “are you on top.”

Tucker broke back into his wicked-hot grin. “Whatever you say, sir,” he mocked.

“Ooh, I like the sound of that,” Church mused.

Tucker’s expression melted into one of horror, which Church decided he liked infinitely better, though he had to admit that smug was a pretty hot look on him. “No, oh fuck no, I am not seriously calling you ‘sir’,” Tucker stammered, holding out a hand as if to ward Church off.

“You know, I could make you,” Church pointed out, grabbing a handful of Tucker’s hair and twisting. Tucker moaned, hands flailing at Church’s wrist in an ineffectual attempt to get him to let go.

“Knock it off, asshole,” Tucker croaked, voice throaty, “you sound like a villain in some shitty anime porno.” He pitched his voice higher by about an octave. “Oh, p-please, Leonard-san, be gentle with me _eaugh_!”

“You watch shitty anime porn?” Church asked, casually tightening his grip on Tucker’s hair until his eyes watered. “That explains so much.”

“Fuck you, no!” Tucker exclaimed, wincing. “I was inferring, or extrapolating, or whatever you call it when you combine your knowledge of anime with your knowledge of shitty porn to make an analogy.”

“I’d call it ‘Tucker’s pathetic attempt to convince me that he doesn’t watch shitty anime porn’,” Church told him cheerfully, releasing his hair.

“Oh, ha ha, fuck you,” Tucker gasped, rubbing his scalp.

“No, fuck you,” Church corrected. “We already discussed this, remember?”

“God, you’re awful,” Tucker marveled. “How long do you work on that awfulness every week? That must take quite a training regimen.”

“Oh, ha ha, fuck you,” Church retorted in a surprisingly accurate mimicry of Tucker. “It comes naturally.”

Tucker opened his mouth to say something more, but Church interrupted him with a kiss. Tucker muttered incoherently into Church’s mouth for a moment, then apparently gave up, kissing back with an intoxicating blend of laziness and hunger. Church would have commented – wanted to comment – but suddenly finding a second tongue in his mouth, he decided against it. Instead, he reached for the shoulder buckles of Tucker’s breastplate, Tucker reaching in turn to his shoulders.

Somehow, Tucker was a fucking pro at removing armor from someone else’s body. Church had no desire to learn why, although _how_ might be nice to know, as he was stripped of his plating from knees to elbows in about thirty seconds and still couldn’t get Tucker’s breastplate off.

He broke away from Tucker’s mouth to breathe, smacking the buckles in frustration. “Fucking – you do it,” he decided. “I give up.”

Tucker laughed. “Dude, it’s not that hard,” he pointed out, unbuckling his breastplate easily. “Well, I mean, it kind of is, but I’m good at handling it.”

“Don’t even,” Church stopped him, and Tucker chuckled but didn’t say it. Nonetheless, as Church unbuckled his armguards and stripped off his gloves, he could practically hear the unspoken “bow chicka bow wow” hanging in the air. He did his best to ignore it, tugging off his boots, calf- and shin-guards, leaving him in head-to-toe dark grey spandex. He peeled off his socks, glancing up at Tucker, who'd removed his armguards, gloves, and breastplate, and was now working at his boots.

"Oh my god, Tucker, you fucking slut, are you seriously not wearing anything under that?" Church marveled as mile after mile of bare leg emerged from under the blue plating.

"Uhm, excuse you," Tucker scoffed, freeing his (really remarkably nice) thighs. The hems of Oscar the Grouch boxers peeked out absurdly from his single remaining piece of armor. "I'm still wearing underwear."

Church scoffed right back, snatching up the bottle that had rolled across the floor when released from its hiding place in Tucker's armor. He held it up, watching Tucker's freckles vanish into his blush.

"How many bottles of this do you have on you right now?" Church asked. "Three?"

"Four," Tucker corrected quietly.

"Four," Church echoed. "Even you have to admit, that's a bit excessive."

"Oh, fuck off," Tucker retorted, snatching the lube from Church's hand and setting it down to remove his codpiece. "Never hurts to be prepared."

"Got a condom?" was Church's only reply.

Tucker thought for a minute. "... No."

"Never hurts to be prepared," Church mocked cheerfully. "And before you ask, yes, I do have one," he added, reaching for the hem of his shirt and beginning to peel it off.

Tucker made a noise of protest, reaching out a hand to stop Church before checking himself and retreating.

Church stopped, raising an eyebrow at Tucker. Tucker's eyes were fixed on the charcoal-grey spandex clinging to Church's chest.

Lips pulling slowly into a smile, Church lowered his hands, watching the way Tucker relaxed ever so slightly.

"What was that?" he asked, and Tucker jolted.

"Oh, uh, I, uh..." he stammered, clearly fumbling for an excuse of some sort. Church dropped to his knees between Tucker's legs, which Tucker immediately tried to close, succeeding only in trapping Church with his knees. "Um."

"Fond of spandex, are you?" Church smirked, leaning forward. To his credit, Tucker didn't lean back as Church propped his hands on either side of Tucker's nearly-bare hips and leaned in, and in, as if to kiss him, but with a smile which bared just enough teeth to suggest otherwise.

Glancing around wildly for something with which to fend Church off, Tucker wet his lips, then raised a hand and slapped Church across the cheekbone.

Church reared back, face set in a perfect expression of what the fuck. It hadn't hurt - like, _at all_ \- which in itself was enough to make him wonder.

"The fuck?" he huffed, incredulous. "What the fuck was that?"

Tucker pulled a face. "I don't fucking know. You were making me uncomfortable."

Church snorted, then started to laugh. "Ohhh my god, Tucker," he sighed, still chuckling. "You are fucking priceless, and don't expect to ever hear that from me again, because I won't say it."

"Dude," Tucker responded, "why are you in such a good mood."

"Dude," Church retaliated, "I'm about to get laid. Why _wouldn't_ I be in such a good mood."

"You're starting to sound like me, and it's creeping me out," Tucker decided.

"All right," Church said. "Unlike some, I can take a hint. I know when I'm not wanted." He stood up, turning as if to gather his armor and leave, but at the same time deliberately planting his ass firmly in Tucker's line of sight.

"No, hey, wait a second," Tucker blurted, and Church grinned. "Who said anything like that?"

Church turned, not missing the way Tucker took the time to appreciate how the spandex shirt and leggings clung to his frame, hiding approximately fuckall. He would have been embarrassed, or at least a little shy, normally, putting his boner on display like that, but if anything Tucker was in a worse state, so he could hardly be judged.

"Well, you kept stalling so long, I'd figured you'd changed your mind," he said finally, shrugging one shoulder nonchalantly.

"Excuse you, but I believe it was you, actually, who wouldn't stop talking, making it you, actually, doing the stalling," Tucker pointed out, rising to his feet and stepping up to meet Church's eye.

"So you weren't stalling because of nerves?" Church asked. "Well that's good, I'd hate for you to be nervous about this, particularly since you started it."

"I started it?" Tucker parroted, crossing his arms over his bare chest. "Mister I'm-So-Bored-I'm-Going-To-Punch-Tucker?"

"I just wanted a fight," Church retorted, crossing his arms to mirror Tucker. "You're the one who brought sex into it."

"Oh, well, excuse me for finally fucking pointing out the pink-and-purple polka-dotted gargantu-elephant in the room of the raging hard-on you've been harboring for me for the last age and a half," Tucker scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Do you want to keep fucking around all week, or are you actually going to let me fuck you?" Church interrupted.

"Oh, wow, way to make a girl feel appreciated," Tucker parried, "c'mon, man, the least you could do is fucking buy me dinner first."

"There is a really fucking long list of better uses you could be putting your mouth to right now," Church pointed out, before grabbing one handful of Tucker's hair and one of his ass and kissing him hard enough to hurt. Tucker made an almost painfully startled noise, clutching at Church's waist and pulling him close as he kissed back.

If Tucker kissed like a lazy summer breeze, Church kissed like a fucking hurricane, merciless in the way he fucked Tucker's mouth with his tongue. Tucker _mmph_ ed, letting Church claim his mouth without a fight.

Eventually, Church tore himself away from Tucker, gasping for breath. "Fuck, you're easy," he laughed breathlessly, backing Tucker up a couple of steps.

"Hey, man, it's not like there's a hell of a lot of chances to get any action in this fucking canyon," Tucker defended, stumbling back as Church kept advancing.

"And I know that must be making you harder, but it's hardly doing anything to make you less easy," Church retorted, pinning Tucker's shoulders against the wall with his hands and leaning his full body into Tucker's.

Tucker released an explosive noise, some unholy combination of a scoff, a moan, and a disgruntled squawk, hands flying helplessly to clutch at Church's shoulders.

“Wow, you really are a fucking slut,” he marveled quietly, relishing the shudder that ran through Tucker at his words.

“Fuck you,” Tucker replied weakly.

“So you’ve said,” Church responded cheerfully, rolling his hips. Tucker took a shuddering breath, pushing up to meet Church’s movements.

“You’ve been using that comeback a lot recently,” Church continued, in that same spitefully cheerful tone despite the ache of his erection against Tucker’s hip. “I think you should start coming up with some new ones.”

“I dunno, I – think ‘fuck you’ is pretty, ah, pretty all-inclusive,” Tucker gasped out. “Covers all – nn – all sorts of situations.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not _weak_ ,” Church pointed out, punctuating the last word with a particularly emphatic roll of his hips. Tucker choked trying to catch enough air.

“All right,” Tucker panted, “how about ‘if you don’t get me naked and back up against this wall in the next ten seconds I’ll bite your balls off and spit them out on all the things you love most in this world, you fucking asshole’?”

“See, you can do so much more than a simple ‘fuck you’ when you put your mind to it,” Church patronized, stepping back to wrangle Tucker out of his boxers. “You just need to apply yourself more.”

“You tryna fuckin' school me? ‘Cause lemme just say, I’m not really into the whole student-ex-teacher roleplay thin _nng_.” Tucker’s voice trailed off when Church pushed him back up against the wall. Church trailed his fingertips from Tucker’s shoulders down over his chest, slowing to a stop with one index finger on Tucker’s sternum.

“Stay,” he ordered, pressing momentarily against the infinitesimal give between Tucker’s pecs before stepping back. Tucker made a noise that sounded remarkably like “eep,” keeping his back tight to the cold metal wall as Church took a step back and quickly surveyed the mess of armor on the floor. Turning smartly on his heel, he stooped to pick up one of Tucker’s previously discarded bottles of lube.

“Oh, nope, can’t use that,” he announced, tossing the bottle over his shoulder. Tucker snatched it out of the air, glancing at the label as Church continued, “Got any that’s not flavored?”

“That one shouldn’t be.” Tucker nodded to a bottle off to Church’s right, tossing the bottle in his own hand gently towards the largest pile of armor in his own colour. Church bent down to pick up the lube Tucker had indicated, relishing the faint sound of Tucker’s breath catching in his throat. Rising to his feet, he turned and arched an eyebrow.

“You moved,” he noticed, voice scarily low.

Tucker swallowed hard, straightening up from where he’d leaned down to roll the rejected lube across the floor. “Uh,” he started, before abruptly regaining his voice.

“Of course I fucking moved,” he defended as Church closed in, “this wall is fucking c _ohhhhhh_.” He trailed off into a sigh which he tried to swallow when Church stepped up against him, pressing him back into the wall.

“You sure you really mind?” was all Church said in reply, a laugh in his voice.

“What the – fuck, dude, that’s _weird_ ,” Tucker gasped, squirming between Church and the wall. Whatever he was trying to do, all he managed was grinding his hips against Church’s until he couldn’t stop, gasping for breath on every movement.

“Weirder than wanting me to keep all this shit on?” Church countered, nodding down at himself as his hands came down on Tucker’s hips, holding him still. “Seriously?”

Tucker’s only reply was a thin whine as Church’s grip tightened, pressing the bottle of lube into his hip and his ass against the wall. “You talk too much,” he managed to croak after a moment wherein silence stretched out to its breaking point.

“So do you,” Church replied shortly, popping open the lube and slicking up his fingers. Tucker went silent, legs falling open as Church’s fingertips slid back behind his balls, meeting only a token resistance before his forefinger slipped smoothly into him.

“You are so fucking easy, it’s almost embarrassing,” Church murmured absentmindedly, working his first finger deeper. Tucker gasped sharply, clenching hard around Church’s knuckle before relaxing again. He didn’t try to reply.

Across the room, an alert sounded from Church’s helmet.

Church stilled his hand, turning to look. Tucker froze, plastered against the wall, skin shivering with the effort of staying still. Dimly, from Church’s helmet radio, drifted the crackle of static and an unmistakably nasal voice: “ _Command to Blood Gulch Outpost Alpha; come in, Blue base._ ”

Church looked back at Tucker. His eyes had a wicked gleam to them.

“Oh no, don’t you fucking –” Tucker started.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Church interrupted. “I have to get that.”

“A _ah_ , fucker,” Tucker panted as Church removed his finger with clinical disinterest, stepping back and setting the lube on the floor to the side.

“Don’t touch,” he ordered without turning, bending to pick up his helmet. He heard Tucker groan, partly in frustration and partly in appreciation. He picked up the helmet and slid it on.

“ _… Yo, Blue base, you guys all dead or what? Jeez, come in, for cryin’ out loud, come in, Blue base_.”

“Yeah, I’m here, calm down,” Church replied, making his way back to where Tucker was splayed out, stark-naked, across the wall. “Blue base to command, we read you, yadda yadda, what’s up?”

“ _We’ve got the rookie all lined up to send you,_ ” the command guy started. Church made a “go on” noise, slipping his finger back into Tucker in a single swift thrust. Tucker gasped, arching up against him.

“ _We’ll be sending him out in a couple days,_ ” the command guy was saying. Church tuned him out completely in favour of working a second finger into Tucker alongside the first, stretching him mercilessly. Tucker swallowed a cry, convulsing when Church’s fingers brushed his prostate.

“Sounds good,” Church replied when the command guy paused for breath. “Now, while you’re on the line…”

“Oh, for fu _ck’s sake_ ,” Tucker tried to groan, but it turned into a squeak as Church started working in a third finger.

“The rookie we’ve got now, Private Tucker, would like permission to use our late Captain Flowers’s armor,” Church continued. “Could you maybe look into that?”

“Are you _seriously_ discussing the armor thing when you’re standing there with three fingers up my _aagh!_ ” Tucker burst out, choking off as Church’s fingers found his prostate again.

“Sorry, could you repeat that?” Church said into the radio. “Private Tucker was talking.”

“ _Yeah, sure, I said it’s no problem, dude,_ ” the command guy replied. “ _Hey, uh, dude, it sounds like Private Tucker ain’t doing too good. What’s up with him, man?_ ”

“Oh, we’ve just been having a little discussion about… internal medicine,” Church answered, ignoring Tucker’s exasperated groan at that. “It’s a fascinating subject.”

“ _Oh, uh, I’ll, uh, let you get back to that, then,_ ” the command guy said. “ _Uh, later, dude._ ” With a click, the line went dead.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” Tucker complained the second Church had discarded his helmet. “I can’t fucking believe you.”

“I’m also about to be fucking an asshole,” Church noted.

“That was bad,” Tucker told him, “that was fucking terrible _aah_ god fucking _fuck me already!_ ”

Church pulled his fingers out again, stepping back and leaving Tucker shaking against the wall, eyes squeezed shut. “Man, you okay?”

The tightness in Tucker’s eyes smoothed out a bit. “I will be once I’ve got your dick up my ass,” he retorted a little too snappishly, eyes cracking open. “Come on, hurry the fuck up.”

Church released an amused breath, sifting through the piles of armor for the pieces with inside compartments for safekeeping. “Desperate, much?”

“Fuck you, I’m not desperate, I’ve got hands,” Tucker retorted, and Church smiled, standing back up with a foil packet caught between two fingers.

“I’d noticed,” Church replied, stepping back towards Tucker, before placing the corner of the condom wrapper between his teeth to hold it and peeling his leggings and briefs down his hips.

Tucker sucked in a breath, watching hungrily as Church exposed his cock. Church smirked around the condom between his teeth, reaching up with one hand to tear the packet open. Tucker licked his lips.

“Could you pass me the lube?” Church asked casually, picking a sliver of foil off his tongue and nodding to the bottle by Tucker’s feet as he rolled the condom on. Tucker slid down the wall, grabbing the lube and handing it over before he stood back up. His eyes never left Church’s dick for so much as a second.

Church took the lube wordlessly, popping the bottle open and slicking his palm. Tucker couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away as Church gave himself a couple lazy pumps, slicking himself up.

“You want me to fuck you with it, or would you rather keep staring at it?” Church asked finally, and Tucker grabbed him by the collar and dragged him close. Church went to kiss him, but Tucker turned his head so Church only caught his cheek.

“And how’s this going to work?” Tucker asked, gesturing vaguely downward. “I’d need stilts to get the right angle here.”

“Your faith in me is astonishing,” Church replied dryly, wrapping his hands around the backs of Tucker’s thighs. “Hold on.”

Tucker grabbed Church’s shoulders, and Church hefted him up. Tucker’s skin dragged on the wall. He clamped his legs around Church’s waist, and Church slowly lowered him until he had to stop to guide his cock into Tucker.

“Christ, Tucker, loosen up, you’re going to hurt yourself,” Church gasped, the hand not on his cock flying from Tucker’s thigh to his ass to try and balance the two of them.

“Fuck, man, I’m trying to hold myself up here, cut me a little fucking slack, would you?” Tucker replied, equally out of breath.

Church leaned forward, sandwiching Tucker between his chest and the wall. “That better?”

“Yeah,” Tucker squeaked. “Not like I needed to breathe or anything.”

“ _Loosen_ the _fuck up_ ,” Church ordered, poking Tucker in the ribs for emphasis. With a shudder, Tucker obeyed, and the head of Church’s dick slipped in before Church grabbed Tucker’s waist to keep gravity from pushing him down all the way.

“ _Fffffffffuck_ ,” Tucker hissed, head falling back to thunk hollowly against the wall. Church opened his mouth to make a barbed comment about how hollow his head sounded, but instead found himself asking, “You okay?”

“I’m good,” Tucker gasped, “I’m good, fuck, I’m fuckin’ great, don’t stop on my account.”

Church huffed amusedly, leaning his forehead on the wall by Tucker’s temple. “Been a while, huh?”

Tucker nipped his earlobe, not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to pretend he meant it to. “Shut up,” he murmured. “Yeah, it’s been a while.”

Church chuckled, rocking his hips forward. Tucker cursed incoherently, scrabbling at Church’s shoulders like he was looking for a better hold. Then Church moved again, and Tucker closed his fingers around what he could grab of Church’s shirt tight enough that the seams started creaking.

Church grabbed at Tucker’s hips, willing away the world and just listening to Tucker’s breathing, the way it skipped whenever he got a little further in, the shaky, deliberate breath he took when Church finally bottomed out.

“You good?” Church asked quietly.

Tucker smacked his shoulder. “Stop fucking asking me that,” he complained. “I’m fine.”

Church leaned back to look Tucker in the eye. “Do you want me to fuck you or not?” he demanded.

“I do,” Tucker assured him, “fuck, if you leave now I will fucking _end_ you.”

“Then you can humour my need for constant and enthusiastic consent,” Church retorted dryly. “There is in fact damage that I don’t actually ever want to do to you. That alone should tell you how unpleasant it would be.”

Tucker sighed, forced exasperation hardly covering his flicker of gratitude. “Yeah, yeah, okay, whatever, can we get _on_ with it? You’ve been stalling for fucking _months_ here.”

Church’s response was to start moving, and Tucker fell silent with a little squeak, hips jerking up to meet Church’s.

“Gravity is going to beat you really fucking fast,” Tucker pointed out once they’d fallen into a rhythm. “Seriously, this is going to end – ah – really fucking badly.”

“It’ll be fine,” Church retorted. “Trust me.”

“Nope,” Tucker countered. “Nope, and _nn_ nope.”

“And _why_ not?” Church asked, with an especially violent thrust for emphasis.

Tucker cursed. “W-well, how much experience do you have fucking men against walls?”

“Not much,” Church admitted. “But it doesn’t seem to be a problem so far.”

“So far,” Tucker echoed, gulping down a breath. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m kind of heavier than most women.”

“I had noticed, surprisingly,” was Church’s response, “and that may be true, but making a woman come is a bit more time-consuming than making a man come. Wouldn’t you say?” he added, aiming for Tucker’s prostate.

“Okay, okay, that’s true,” Tucker babbled, “but holding up six feet of muscle is gonna get real hard real quick.”

“Wanna bet?” Church panted. “Hundred bucks says I can make us both come before gravity fucks me over sideways.” He jabbed at Tucker’s prostate again. “How’s that sound?”

“Nn – aah, god, yes,” Tucker gasped. “Fuck, shitshitshit –”

Church grinned, burying his face in Tucker’s neck, and sped up, falling silent except for his ragged breathing. Tucker squirmed, panting fractured curses and the odd vehement insult.

Church slowly slid his hand from Tucker’s hip, closing it around his swollen cock. Tucker cried out, a sound that could easily have been mistaken for pain, as Church started jerking him off to the rhythm of their hips.

Tucker’s hands flitted over Church for a moment before one sunk into his hair and the other closed around a fistful of his shirt. His fingertips dragged over Church’s waist like they were trying to leave marks. Church groaned and bit down on the side of Tucker’s neck.

Tucker shuddered, every muscle in his body going tense as he came with a startled noise. Church slowed his hips, releasing Tucker’s sensitive cock. Eventually, once Tucker remembered how to breathe, he started moving again.

Tucker didn’t protest, just breathed shallowly through his mouth and tried to angle his hips to keep Church’s cock away from his prostate. Church choked on a breath, throat dry. He reached up and grabbed the wrist of the hand in his hair.

Readjusting his grip, Tucker twisted his hand, tugging at Church’s scalp, then wrenched Church’s head back.

Church cried out, slamming his hips into Tucker and coming, shuddering like he was coming apart as his brain dissolved into white noise.

When Church opened his eyes, Tucker was shivering. Despite the shaking in his own legs, he managed to pull out, set Tucker on his feet, strip off the condom, toss it carelessly aside – he’d regret that later – and slide somewhat gently to the floor with Tucker, where they then slumped against the wall like their skeletons had deserted them.

Actually, Church mused, that was a fairly accurate description.

“You’re getting jizz on me,” Tucker murmured eventually.

Church raised his head, looking down at the two of them. “It’s yours anyways,” he pointed out, but stripped off his already-soiled shirt and wiped the mess off Tucker’s stomach.

“Well, fuck,” Tucker managed, voice cracking. Church looked up to find Tucker’s gaze fixed on his chest. “I should’ve let you take that off.”

Church chuckled, pressing a teasing kiss to Tucker’s lips. “That’s gonna bruise,” he announced, tapping the bite mark on the side of Tucker’s neck with two fingers and rising to his feet.

Tucker’s hand flew to the mark Church had indicated, fingers feeling it out. “You bit me,” he remarked incredulously as Church pulled up his leggings and tossed his shirt into a pile of armor.

“And you punched me in the face,” Church replied. “I’d say we’re even, wouldn’t you?”

“Well, you started it!” Tucker retorted.

“Oh, and by the way, you owe me a hundred bucks,” Church reminded him as if he hadn’t spoken.

“What? No I – oh, you fucker,” Tucker marveled as Church strolled across the room. “You sneaky little fucker.”

“I’ll be in the shower if you want me,” Church tossed back over his shoulder. Then he was gone.

Tucker waited barely a minute before casting a quick look around at the mess they’d made and heading after him.


End file.
